


bonded for life

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt makes a difficult decision to save Jaskier from death.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 470





	bonded for life

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

Geralt paced the room as Yennefer worked over Jaskier’s convulsing body. He wished he could help - he wished he knew what that beast they had encountered in the woods had been, but for once he hadn’t recognized the sharp teeth and beady eyes. He’d been lucky Yennefer had been nearby or else Jaskier might be — no, don’t think it, he told himself, shaking off the dark thoughts.

Yennefer was here; she was the best of the best - she would find a way to help Jaskier.

“Okay,” she said, and he stopped, turning to look at her. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

That was not what he’d been preparing to hear. “ _What?_ ” he asked, sharp and disbelieving. Jaskier was as good as dead; he was dying and it was all _his fault._ Before he knew it, Yennefer had forced him to sit down in a chair.

“Something is happening and I don’t know what,” she said, fast but clear. “It’s like his body is attacking itself, and since we don’t have any information on the beast, I - I don’t think there’s much I can do, Geralt.” She looked sincerely guilty as she squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He turned to look at the bard, still convulsing, covered in sweat. “There has to be something,” he said without looking away. “ _Anything_ , Yen.”

“Geralt,” she repeated, still squeezing his shoulder. “I’ve exhausted most of my options - ”

Geralt sat up a little straighter. “Most,” he parroted, looking at her. “Not all, but _most_.” Yennefer took her hand off his shoulder. “That means you haven’t tried everything yet.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, “Do it, Yen. I don’t care. Just do it.”

She stared down at him. “I could try binding your souls together.” Geralt would’ve fallen if he wasn’t already sitting. She looked torn between anger and resignation. “It would be a lot like what you did with us, but even stronger. If one of you died, the other would follow. You would essentially be two minds, two bodies, but one soul.”

“That’s - I’ve never even heard of that.”

Yennefer folded her arms over her chest, “It’s forbidden magic. Dangerous, and _stupid_.” She stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Jaskier. Geralt glared up at her. “You could die, or he could die, or you _both_ could die. At least this way we know you will - ”

“No,” he interrupted. “You have to try, Yen. Jaskier died traveling with me, _because_ of me.”

She softened, just barely. “That’s not true, Geralt, and you know it.” Jaskier let out a sharp gasp of pain. Geralt tried looking around her but she quickly sidestepped, blocking his view again. “You did not _force_ him to do anything, he traveled with you because he wanted to. He knew what the risks were, and - ”

“Shut up!” he snarled, surprised by his own anger. “If you’re not going to do it, I’ll just find a mage who _will_.”

Yennefer’s eyes hardened. “You did a similar thing to me,” she said, low and harsh, “and I still haven’t forgiven you for it. Other things, yes, but not that.” Geralt looked up at her, feeling guilt like a sharp knife through the chest. “Do you really want to risk it again? Jaskier might never forgive you for this, Geralt, and I _know_ how much he means to you - ”

Geralt stood up, knocking her back a few steps. “I don’t care if he never wants to see me again,” he said, meaning every word of it, “I’d rather him hate me than be dead.” He took a deep breath and steadied her with a hard look. “Do you understand?”

She stood her ground for a few long seconds. “Fine,” she said finally. “But you both might die.”

Geralt shrugged, a sharp jerky movement. He would rather die than live in a world without Jaskier, and that was definitely a thought he should examine closer but later; right now he had other things to focus on. Yennefer frowned and dragged him over to the bed.

“Stay there,” she barked as she left the room.

Geralt looked down at Jaskier, still thrashing. He reached down and brushed some sweat-slick hair off his forehead. He was burning up. “Jaskier,” he said. “We’re going to fix this, okay? And if you never want to see me again…” Geralt looked away, ignoring the pain in his chest. “I’ll understand, and respect your wishes.”

Yennefer returned a couple minutes later, an armful of ingredients. She dumped them on the bed and instructed Geralt to sit down next to Jaskier. He obeyed, even adjusted Jaskier to slump between his legs. He relaxed, just barely, at the new position.

“This is going to be painful,” she said, “if it even works.”

Geralt nodded, “And if it doesn’t?”

Yennefer took a deep breath, “I’ll have two bodies to dispose of.”

“Right,” he said tersely.

Yennefer instructed him to take both of their shirts off. Geralt pulled his own off before working on Jaskier’s, untying the knots and tugging it off. Finished, he turned back to Yennefer, who had a scalpel in her hand. He smiled tightly.

“Fun.”

Yennefer promptly ignored him, leaning over Jaskier first. She carved a symbol in the skin of his chest, not very deep. Geralt resisted the protective urge to stop her. She was trying to help; this was necessary for the spell. He knew that logically, but it was still hard to resist his natural urges to protect to the bard.

She turned to him next. “Your turn.”

Geralt nodded, holding his head high. She leaned in and started to carve the same symbol in his skin. It would likely scar, for both of them. The pain wasn’t too bad, especially once he started focusing on the familiar, comforting scent of lilac and gooseberries.

Finished, she pulled back and tossed the scalpel away without looking. “This is the part that’s going to hurt,” she said, and he smiled again, all sarcastic.

“You mean _that_ wasn’t it?” he asked, and she ignored him, grabbing a vial of some kind of fine powder.

She dipped her finger in it before smearing the stuff in Jaskier’s wound. He screamed, the loudest yet, and thrashed violently between Geralt’s legs. He held him best he could, mostly to stop him from kicking Yennefer as she turned to him, repeating the motions.

The pain was instant and blinding. He felt like his heart was melting, turning to lava in his chest.

“You’re okay,” she said through the rushing in his hears. He didn’t exactly believe her.

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut, held Jaskier tighter. “Just _finish it!_ ” he yelled through the pain.

He heard her, distantly, chanting something, the palm of her hand warm against his chest. He assumed her other hand was probably touching Jaskier’s chest, but he didn’t dare to open his eyes. Geralt considered himself to have a high pain tolerance but this was unlike anything he’d ever felt before; he didn’t even care if he sounded pathetic as he sobbed and screamed.

Yennefer chanted louder and then he felt the tip of her fingers entering the wound and he blacked out from the pain, slumping against the headboard.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” were the first words he heard after regaining consciousness.

He blinked, once, before his vision cleared and he saw Yennefer hovering over him. She smiled, briefly, eyes damp before she slapped him, hard, on the arm.

“I thought you were _dead_ ,” she snarled. “Your heartbeat and _everything_ was just - ”

Geralt sat up instantly, nearly knocking heads with Yennefer, hissing at the pain. He looked down; she must’ve bandaged his chest while he was out of it. “What about - ” he started to ask, but then he turned and saw Jaskier. He was asleep, at least peacefully, or perhaps he wasn’t asleep at all. His stomach churned. “Is he - ?”

Yennefer looked at him with something like pity. It was an unusual look for her. He didn’t like it. “His heart is still beating, but…”

“But?” he prompted impatiently.

Yennefer placed a hand on his leg, warm and comforting. He wanted to push her away but he simply didn’t have the energy. “If he hasn’t woken up yet, he’s probably not going to. An eternal slumber is as good as death, Geralt.”

Geralt slumped, pressing a hand over his chest, over the injury that was hidden from view, “But - ”

“I told you it probably wouldn’t work,” she said. “You should’ve listened. You’re lucky you survived.”

Geralt wanted to _yell_ at her, wanted to _cry_ , wanted to - just give up. He couldn’t; if only because he knew Yennefer wouldn’t let him. He scooted up the bed and laid down, his back turned to Yennefer. She was silent as he buried his face in Jaskier’s hair, damp with sweat. His chest had also been bandaged at some point. Yennefer tried to hide it, but she was surprisingly thoughtful.

He held Jaskier, shoulders trembling. He wasn’t crying - there were no tears - but it was as close as he’d gotten in decades. He had finally done it; killed the one person who had always stayed by his side, even when he was a bastard and deserved to be abandoned. Jaskier had been kind and honest and open and brave, and what had that gotten him? _Death_. All because he had been unfortunate enough to befriend Geralt.

“I’ll let you have a moment,” he heard Yennefer say as she stood up.

She smartly left without waiting for a reply, because she wouldn’t have gotten one. Geralt pulled back and stared at Jaskier’s face, at his chest. He was breathing. It wasn’t right that he would probably never open his eyes again.

“You deserved better,” he whispered, rough and true. “I’ll never forget you the things you did for me.” The next words went unspoken: _Or how you made me feel._

Yennefer returned over an hour later. “Geralt,” she said, standing at the foot of the bed. “You should eat something, and…”

He pulled away from Jaskier, turning to look at her. He wasn’t hungry. “ _And?_ ” he asked harshly.

She stared at Jaskier, “We need to discuss what to do if he doesn’t, well.” She shrugged sharply. “You know.”

Geralt quickly sat up. Jaskier limply rolled over. He placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I do.”

“Geralt,” she said, firm. “Like I said, he’s as good as dead but his body will keep living unless we do something about it.” Yennefer stepped closer, sitting at the foot of the bed. She reached out for him, but he moved away. “We can’t just _leave him_ like this.”

He looked down at Jaskier. “I can’t,” he said. “Yen, I can’t.”

She nodded. “I know,” she said, much too knowingly. “That’s why I’ll do it.”

Geralt wanted to tell her to fuck off - Gods, how he wanted to push her away and stay with Jaskier, cuddled up in bed together, listening to his heartbeat. But she was right, and he knew that. He hated her for it, really. Jaskier might’ve been breathing, but he was still dead. It was cruel and unusual. Geralt leaned down to whisper in Jaskier’s ear, hoping that somehow - through magic, perhaps - he could hear him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Jaskier,” he said, knowing Yennefer could probably hear him and not caring. “I wished this had work. Even if you had hated me for the rest of your life, it would’ve been worth it,” he finished, meaning it.

He would’ve given up his own life to bring Jaskier back, but sometimes even magic had limits.

Yennefer must’ve stood up at some point because now she put a hand on his shoulder, warm and light. “Go on,” she said quietly. “There’s supper waiting for you in the kitchen.” Geralt opened his mouth, and she continued, “I don’t care if you say you’re not hungry, eat it.”

Geralt was too exhausted - physically and emotionally - to fight her. He stood on numb legs and walked to the door, stopping. He turned, wanting just one last look at the bard, needing to burn every detail of his face to his memory. Yennefer patiently waited.

Finally, he sniffed. “Okay.” He turned away and reached out, but then -

“Geralt,” Yennefer’s voice. “ _Geralt_. Oh. Gods. _Look_.”

He turned around, and immediately he knew what she was talking about: Jaskier was tossing and turning. Yennefer had a hand on his forehead. “ _Well?_ ” he asked, running over.

“He’s - he’s waking up,” she said with wide eyes. “Geralt, he’s not - ”

Geralt let out a sharp laugh, so relieved he slumped to the floor on his knees, grabbing one of Jaskier’s hands. He squeezed, tight, and he weakly squeezed back, smacking his lips. Geralt laughed again, feeling almost delirious. He wasn’t dead. He was going to be okay.

Finally, after five minutes, Jaskier opened his eyes. He squinted at the ceiling. “Wh - where am I?” he asked, voice rough from not speaking for hours.

Yennefer handed him a canister of water, which he offered to Jaskier, helping him sit up enough to drink from it. Jaskier drank greedily, understandably so, some dribbling down his chin. When he was finished, Geralt placed the empty canister on the floor and gently wiped Jaskier’s chin.

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

Jaskier blinked at Geralt. “Oh,” he breathed. “Fuck, that - that _thing_ attacked me. Yeah, I remember.”

Geralt was relieved to know he still had his memories, at least. He found one of his hands, squeezing. Jaskier seemed only momentarily surprised before he squeezed back.

“You were attacked, and we didn’t know what to do,” he said, speaking fast, much faster than normal. “I had never encountered that beast before, and after he attacked you, Jaskier, you were - were _dying_. Yennefer tried everything but in the end only thing worked, and Jaskier, I want to say I’m sorry but I’m not.” He stared at him. “I would do it again and again if it meant saving your life, but… I do understand if you wish to never see me again. If that is what you want, I will go as soon as we know you’re stable and I’ll stay away.”

Jaskier stared at him. “Um, _what?”_

“Geralt,” Yennefer said. “You’re overwhelming him. Calm down.”

Geralt shrugged sharply. “He needs to know, Yen.”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Stop talking about me, and start talking _to me.”_

Geralt nodded quickly. “Right.” He glanced at Yennefer briefly before continuing, “Yennefer performed a spell, one that’s frowned upon by the Brotherhood.” He cleared his throat, and Jaskier - always so kind - squeezed his hand, a silent comfort. He wondered if he would still be so kind after he knew the truth. “The spell brought you back from the brink of death, Jaskier, but at a cost.” He paused, throat suddenly dry.

Jaskier squeezed his hand again, “Geralt, you both saved my life. I’m not going to be mad.”

“You say that because you don’t know what we did,” he said, gruff. “Yennefer bond our souls, Jaskier. And not in the way you’re thinking. If you die, or I die, the other will die too. Our soul is essentially one now, Jaskier. But from my understanding we can part ways - ” He glanced at Yennefer for confirmation, and she nodded. “But our fates will always be intertwined, and I am sorry for not asking you, but I couldn’t let you die, Jaskier, I just - I _couldn’t_ \- ”

Jaskier lurched forward, and at first Geralt expected to be slapped or hit (he would’ve taken it) but then Jaskier was hugging him, tight. “You think I’d be mad at you for that?” he asked, “For saving my life? You’re an idiot, Geralt.”

Geralt swallowed thickly. “But I decided for you,” he argued weakly.

“Shh,” he shushed, pulling back. “If anything, this works in my favor,” he said, light and airy. Like Geralt hadn’t betrayed him, and decided his fate for him. Jaskier never ceased to amaze him. “You should _want_ to keep me around now.”

Geralt laughed in disbelief. “Okay, um, well.” He didn’t know what to say.

Yennefer clapped her hands together. “How about we all eat?” she said. “I’m starving.”

Jaskier’s stomach growled, as if on command. He laughed sheepishly, and Geralt helped him out of bed, an arm around his shoulders. On their way to the kitchen, Jaskier announced, “Wait, I need to say something.” They all stopped. Geralt and Yennefer turned to look at him. “Thank you both for what you did. Really. I know why you were scared, Geralt, but I’m not mad, truly, and Yennefer, just - thank you. I don’t think I need to say this, but I really, _really_ didn’t want to die.”

“Thank him,” she said, nodding at Geralt. “He decided on what to do. I was… admittedly against it.”

Jaskier shrugged, undeterred, and hugged them both. “Details be damned,” he muttered. “Thank you both. Now - ” Pulling back, he grinned. “I’m fucking starving. Come on.” They continued toward the kitchen while Jaskier asked, “Oh, by the way, who’s fucking house is this?”


End file.
